


bucky barnes and the art class

by belovedmuerto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Curtain Fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17650916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: Bucky takes an art class, because he wants to spend more time with Steve.





	bucky barnes and the art class

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to deisderium over on twitter for the prompt... which I sort of stuck to! 
> 
> no beta, but I did read it through so hopefully I caught any glaring errors.

Steve plonks down at the desk in front of him with his eyebrows up near his hairline. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky replies.

Steve’s brows remain high.

Bucky shrugs. How does he explain, he wanted to take an art class and feel closer to Steve? He wanted to take an art class and _be_ closer to Steve. It hadn’t taken much at all to figure out which classes Steve had registered for this semester, and to quietly register for the same art class.

They’ve both been taking classes, here and there, at Kingsborough; Steve mostly in art, and Bucky mostly in the sciences and engineering.

Bucky’s not sure he ever actually finished high school--he doesn’t really remember-- but his paperwork is all in order (he’d made sure of it, when he’d come in from the cold, that he’d have an identity. Something that even vaguely resembles his actual identity, or what it used to be, anyway. He has several more if the need arises, for both him and Steve), and he’d registered with no issues. 

Steve flies mostly under the radar in classes. Sure, sometimes people do a double take when they see him, but as far as Bucky’s been able to see, it’s mostly because he’s huge and has an insane shoulder to waist ratio, not because people clock him as Captain America. He’s registered as Steven Grant, and he even remembers most of the time to answer to that name when teachers call roll (and why the hell does it matter at the college level if you attend class? It’s your own money you’re wasting if not! Bucky doesn’t get it). He’s got a decent beard grown in now, and it comes across almost ginger in the afternoon sunlight. No one expects Steve Rogers to have a ginger beard.

No one expects Steve Rogers to be taking community college art classes.

Definitely no one expects the Winter Soldier to be doing it either.

Bucky gets looks too, although the ones he gets are usually less appreciative than the ones Steve gets, and more wary. Occasionally frightened. He sort of dresses like a hobo, and even Steve has mentioned that he mostly has resting murder face these days. Generally right before he kisses the murder right off him, but still. 

He’s not what he used to be, and he feels distinctly charmless in himself, in his body, in his mind.

They’re both getting looks right now, as the other students file into the classroom, one by one and two by two. Mostly suspicious looks, and curious ones, but no one says anything other than, “hey man, how’s it going,” from the two kids who sit down next to them.

It’s only the first class, and the instructor spends the majority of it going over the syllabus and giving them a little bit of detail on the projects they will be working on throughout the semester.

They’re dismissed about fifteen minutes early. 

Steve gathers his stuff up quickly, and then he grabs Bucky’s notebook as well, tucking it under his arm with his own. Bucky glares at him, and both of the guys who had sat down close to them blanch and retreat quickly.

“You got another class, Buck?” Steve asks him.

Bucky shakes his head. “Not for an hour. You?”

“Same. Wanna get lunch?”

“Yeah, I think there’s a taco place right off campus.”

“Excellent.”

\----

The same two kids sit down at the little group of four desks with Bucky on Thursday at their next class. They both nod at Bucky and get back to their phones. Both of them have headphones on. For his part, Bucky is fiddling with his notebook and the little case of art supplies that he’d gathered for today (mostly stolen from Steve). He makes a mental note to make sure he’s carrying headphones with him at all times on campus. He’ll stand out less that way.

Bucky ignores the two students with extreme prejudice. Now that they’re going to be getting started with the actual art creating part of the class, he’s a little bit nervous.

A very large to-go cup of coffee appears in front of him, and he might moan a little at the sight of it. Steve’s chuckle comes from above him, and then in front of him as he sits down with his own huge cup of coffee.

Bucky takes a sip, and it is heavenly: all sugar and caffeine, just the way he likes it.

“Did you get extra whip?”

“Yes, Buck,” Steve says. It’s an old refrain.

Bucky watches as Steve sits down across from him again, spreading his stuff out on the desk.

The two kids are both staring at them with wide eyes. Bucky refrains from glaring, but he does look at them. “What?”

“You guys know each other?” one of them (the one with the rainbow hair) asks.

Bucky just blinks at them for a moment, then he looks back at Steve. Steve, who is smirking and starts tapping his ring on his desk. Bucky looks pointedly at it, and then at his own ring on his right hand, and then back at the two kids.

Eventually, the penny drops.

“Oh shit you guys are _married_?!” the rainbow haired-one asks, voice way too loud in the quiet of the classroom. Everyone who wasn’t already listening in before is now.

So now the entire class knows. They’re literally all staring at them.

Bucky puts his head down on his desk. Steve laughs and says, “Yes.”

Thankfully, they’re spared the barrage of questions Bucky is positive both of their desk-mates are absolutely quivering to ask because people are nosy af, by the arrival of their instructor.

At least he’s not nervous about class anymore, now that he’s vaguely annoyed that _everyone knows_ and there’s no chance of him maintaining any sort of dark and mysterious reputation—aka a way to get people to leave him the hell alone—with his ray of sunshine husband sitting across from him. Bringing him delicious sugary coffee concoctions.

OK, the future isn’t so terrible sometimes. Bucky takes a sip of his drink and settles in for some art.

\--

After that, things settle in. Classes get under way, and they both buckle down to the rhythms of the semester. Bucky finds the repetition of it, the routine, to be very soothing. He gets to spend an extra hour with Steve, twice a week. It satisfies that deep down urge that he’s been fighting most of his life to always be as close as possible to Steve. It satisfies that urge but also gets him out of the house and into public. It helps him get used to being around people again.

School, as it turns out, has many benefits.

Steve always brings him a large white mocha with extra whip cream, which is great because that means he gets two on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

And to his surprise, he really enjoys the class, too. He wasn’t really expecting to. He wasn’t really sure what to expect at all. All of his classes the past couple of semesters have been serious, mostly science courses. The art class has been a breath of fresh air.

And he’s not bad at it. 

He’s not at Steve’s level (he’s pretty sure Steve has the highest grades in the class, and he’s barely even trying), but he’s doing well.

He gets an A on his final project, and he’s really proud of that. Steve treats him to lunch over it, which seems a little silly, but he supposes that Steve’s probably picked up on his pride and his enjoyment.

\----

“Do you want to do that again?” Steve asks him, in bed one night shortly after the end of the semester.

For a moment, Bucky’s not sure what he means. Does he mean what they just did, in which case the answer is… well, actually it’s: maybe in a few hours after he gets some sleep.

“Take another class together, I mean,” Steve adds, when it becomes clear that Bucky’s confused, and conflicted.

“Oh,” Bucky says. 

“I liked it,” Steve adds. He’s laughing at him.

“Shut up,” Bucky says, turning his face into his pillow. 

“I can take one of your classes next semester,” Steve goes on, ignoring his reaction.

Bucky peeks at him out of the corner of one eye. “We could take a history class.”

Steve smiles at him. “Maybe an art history class?”

“Nerd,” Bucky says.

Steve grins at him. “Takes one to know one.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/BelovedMuerto), or [dreamwidth](https://belovedmuerto.dreamwidth.org), or [tumblr](http://www.belovedmuerto.tumblr.com) i guess.


End file.
